by Zoe Dawson
She giggled and he was taken aback. He’d never heard her laugh like that. He liked it very much.
“You also know the way to my good side.”
“You have a bad side?”
She laughed again. “Charmer,” she said, her voice husky. Reaching for the coffee, she made a soft humming sound as she took a sip. “God, so good.” Those cool brown whiskey potent eyes took him in over the rim of her mug. “Whatcha doin’ there, sailor?”
“Security.”
“You are being very diligent when it comes to my body,” she said softly.
“Nope. I don’t even need an easy day for that mission,” he murmured. He glanced at the photo on the nightstand, then back at her. She caught the look and stiffened. The light-heartedness between them faded as her expression shut him out and she started to withdraw—from him and the unspoken and very large elephant in the room.
“Hey, babe,” he said, not giving her the chance to shut him out. “Everything is strange on deployment. It seems like a different dimension,” he said, rising and settling on the bed beside her. “We don’t have to define anything at all. It’s like Vegas, baby. What happens on deployment stays on deployment.”
He pulled her against him, pressing her ashen face against his shoulder. She was so worth this risk he was taking. He could get so burned here. He felt her chest heave, and she pressed her face tighter against him. Then, on another uneven breath, she slid her arms around his waist and held onto him.
“I’m not cheating on him if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not a wife or mother anymore.”
The tragedy in those two sentences piqued his curiosity and devastated him in one fell swoop. Trying to ease the sudden knot in his throat, he tightened his arms around her and rested his head on top of hers, the hard wad of tension in his belly finally letting go. He gave her a few moments to regain her equilibrium, rubbing her back. It took about thirty seconds, but she finally went slack against him, and he felt her take another deep breath. Running his other hand up her neck under her hair, he shifted his head and rested his cheek against her temple.
His voice was low when he murmured, “I was pretty sure about that, Mak. It’s not that I want to pry into your life or anything…it’s just that I was burned a while back, and married women are off limits. I’m sorry if that upsets you in any way. It wasn’t my intention to even sleep with you.”
There was a hard-scoffing sound.
“Okay, I wanted to sleep with you, but if you remember, I wanted to talk. I didn’t want to get in too deep.”
She shook her head and flattened her hands against his back. Experiencing a flurry of emotions, he tucked his head tighter against hers and caressed the base of her skull with his thumb, her hair like silk against his hand. Waiting for the thickness in his chest to settle, he continued to stroke her neck, wishing like hell he could ease all the pain he heard in her quiet, voice. He gave them both a minute. Easing his hold, a little, he shifted her head so he could see her face. She looked hesitant and very fragile, her eyes revealing her deep-seated heartache.
She combed her hands through her disheveled hair. “At least you gave me that respect. I’m not that type of woman.” The last sentence was said almost defensively, and her chin lifted a notch. But beneath that stubborn act was a woman with real and deep sorrow, one who had built a wall around her heart to keep herself safe.
He knew all about that, and he let it go. He was beginning to discover that everything had a time and place.
Reaching out, he touched a finger to her chin and slowly lowered it, telling her without words that she had no reason to put on a tough cookie act with him. SEALs were masters at building and maintaining their armor in many different ways.
“I’d better hit the showers,” she murmured. She slipped from the bed without an ounce of modesty, letting the sheet unravel from her body as she stood up, baring her to his gaze for a handful of arousing moments. He swallowed to ease the dryness in his mouth so he could speak again, determined not to let anything distract him from the course of their conversation.
“I do need to talk to you about something important.”
She looked over her shoulder at him after picking up a hairbrush on the dresser. “You are quite the chatterbox in the morning. In case it’s not evident, I’m not,” she quipped and sent the brush through all that long hair.
“Not really, but when I have something to say or ask, I don’t hold back whatever time of the day it is.”
She reached for a robe, and that made everything better and worse. She belted it and turned around, setting her hands on her hips. “Okay, Chatty Cathy. What is it?”
“We didn’t use protection and you didn’t stop me.”
“Oh, right.” She shifted her gaze and met his dead on.
“I’m not usually that irresponsible.” His gut clenched. He had used a condom every time with Helen, but she’d still gotten pregnant. Nothing was ever one hundred percent. His voice got gruff when he said, “I don’t want you to think I’m careless, especially with you.”
He would have to tell her about Samantha if this affair lasted after the deployment. It was never a given, but he was hoping to see Mak back in San Diego.
Her expression softened, and she almost smiled. “Thanks for your protection.” A hint of dry humor appeared in her eyes. “I can handle myself. I’m on the pill. I don’t take chances…” Her voice trailed off and he let it go.
“Okay, so we don’t have to have a birds and bees discussion?” He said it to lighten the mood and remove those shadows from her eyes.
She rolled her eyes. “No. I’m aware. Do you carry condoms on deployment? Get in a quick one between combat?”
“Yes…no…you never know, except this time I didn’t. Forgot to replenish.”
Her brows went up and the glimmer of amusement intensified as she responded her tone pointed, “Oh, did you? Quite the babe magnet. How many do you go through during deployment?”
He chuckled. “Not like that, Mak.” He looked away. He’d really stuck his foot in his mouth. “They were expired. I had to throw them away.”
She bent over a little, clutching her stomach in a belly laugh.
“It’s not that funny,” he groused.
“It sure is,” she managed around huffs of laughter. “The way you look, you need protection.” She doubled over again.
He moved off the bed so fast, she squealed when he wrapped his arm around her waist and slapped her butt, the sound cracking through the silky fabric.
“Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”
He burst out laughing and narrowed his eyes. “Is that a dig, lady? Because you’re skating on thin ice.”
“I’m skating into the bathroom to get ready for work.” She grabbed some underwear from the top dresser drawer. “We can’t be late.”
“We have over an hour.” Before the door closed, he said, “I could ask one of the guys for a loan if we need some.”
“Don’t you dare. You don’t need any good ol’ boy kudos for sleeping with the hot special agent. Your alpha male ego is big enough.”
He bit his tongue and she groaned.
“Oh, man. You already have.”
“They’re not stupid. They know I didn’t sleep in my rack.”
She stared at him, her gaze narrowing. “So that automatically means you were in mine?”
He gave her his most innocent look because he was…ah…innocent. “I didn’t kiss and tell,” he said. “Fucking nosy bastards.”
She gave him a long, level look and a menacing smile. “Just as long as everybody respects me in the morning.”
She closed the bathroom door. He nodded and went back to his tablet. That was one thing she didn’t have to worry about. His teammates thought she was a tough, ball-busting babe.
Ten minutes later the door opened, and steam escaped along with the most delicious smell on the planet. Mak’s unique scent all powdery and floral sweet.
He looked up
from the tablet, then went to look back but did a double take. The sight of Mak in her transparent black bra and panties was dammed near more than he could handle.
Clamping down on the ache pulsating through him, he resisted pulling her down onto the bed.
“Have you seen my phone?” she asked, still rubbing whatever heavenly scent she had on over her hands.
“No,” he said, his voice a bit strangled.
She climbed over him on the bed and searched the other nightstand. “Maybe it fell under the bed.”
She went to her hands and knees, then reached beneath it, treating him to a spectacular view of her curvaceous backside covered in slippery silk. It was more than any man could bear, and any timetable she might have planned just got torpedoed. He stood, hastily toed off his boots, jerked off his T-shirt, and pulled off his socks, then shucked his jeans and briefs.
He moved onto the mattress, right behind Mak.
“Oh, there it is—”
He undid her bra with one flick of his wrist. She gasped as her breasts spilled forward, full and voluptuous and perfectly proportioned to her slender waist and the swell of her hips. He leaned over her and kissed the base of her spine, then skimmed his lips higher until he was completely covering her from behind and his face was buried in the fragrant curve of her neck. She was already panting in anticipation, wanting this. Wanting him.
He cupped her breasts in his hands, and she moaned as he kneaded the sensitive tips and flicked her nipples.
Bracing himself with one hand, he skimmed his other hand down her stomach and beneath the black scrap of fabric covering her core. His fingers stroked her intimately, deeply, where she was all velvet softness and slick, wet heat.
Her hips moved, and she moaned softly, her breaths coming faster until she cried out, fueling the fire already burning within him. He hauled her into a better position, pushing her down to the mattress and onto a pillow, removing her panties in one pull. He aligned his hips with hers, slipping his dick into her, her climax still pulsing. With a long, driving thrust he was where he needed to be. Her fingers gripped the comforter, and she moaned and arched, pushing against him, drawing him deeper into her body, threatening his sanity.
Denying himself release still, he reached a hand beneath her, stroking her in the same, slow, heated rhythm as his pumping hips. He loved learning every inch of her body and what made her gasp and groan.
She sobbed as her body convulsed with the beginning tremors of a powerful, undeniable climax.
He drove deep, deep inside her as her orgasm crested, squeezing his dick, milking him, enveloping every hard inch of him like a tight, hot glove. With an unraveling groan, he turned her to her back, sliding his arm under the arch, drove back into her and pulled her hips tighter against his. Then he slanted his mouth across hers in a fierce, devouring kiss and rode her hard and fast. It didn’t take long before his own violent spasms jerked and shuddered through him.
He collapsed on top of her, his breathing ragged, his entire body spent. Beneath him, her heart beat wildly. He went to push up, to take his weight off her completely when she curved her arms around his back and held him there, kissing the curve of his jaw, his neck.
She drew a deep breath and opened her eyes, her expression so soft and luminous.
“That was amazing,” she whispered. “You screwed my timeline, asshole.”
He laughed. “I thought you just said I was amazing.”
“An amazing asshole.”
He laughed again and moved off her. Their phones started to vibrate at the same time.
“Oh, dammit,” she said. “We’re fucked.”
Fifteen minutes later they showed up at the command center. All of his brothers swiveled their eyes to them, Max smirking. LT just squinted at him. Pitbull took a chair between Saint and Dragon, noticing Dodger was absent. Hemingway, too.
“Your ass is going to be grass and LT will be a lawn mower if you cut it close like that again,” Saint said.
“Shut up and drink your water,” Pitbull growled low.
“With COT’s help we’ve identified one of Cortez’s safe houses in the jungle. They have satellite images of a white van pulling up, but unfortunately, it’s too grainy to make out who the people are. It’s possible our hostages are being held there.”
A couple of the SEALs sighed, not fans of the thick jungle where everything was trying to kill you, even the plants. Pitbull was wondering where Dodger was when someone said, “Clever of the Artful Dodger to dodge the jungle.”
“He’s busy with an assignment I gave him. Be ready to go when it gets dark,” LT growled, and that was the end of that discussion. Right, LT had concocted a side project that was really just Dodger babysitting Hemingway so he wouldn’t get into trouble. Less than fifteen minutes later, they were getting settled in the troop carriers with several COT, including their liaison, Lieutenant Joao Alves.
As dusk moved into evening, the truck turned and shifted, rolling onto rougher road as it jerked, bumped and tumbled over potholes, rocks and standing water. The heat was oppressive, even at night, a swamp of humidity. Around them, the forest was like a blanket of rolling green, the air thin and the jungle so dense Pitbull could barely see a few feet beyond the rutted road.
It wasn’t long until the trucks came to a stop and they all bailed out of the vehicle. Max and Jugs took point, and they all fell into single file as they headed toward the mass of dark green.
The thick jungle closed around them, blocking moonlight and the sky above the thick canopy, and cooler temperatures created a thick rolling mist over the forest floor.
They traveled slowly and methodically toward the safe house, cautious and vigilant for booby traps, but Jugs was like the canary that miners kept with them down below. Whenever he scented explosives, he would lay down and they would simply walk over them.
Mak hadn’t been happy about being left behind, and without reliable communication, she would have to wait until they trudged out of the jungle for any word on her colleagues.
She was in for a tense night.
After forty minutes of walking, they came to a dirt road, and at the end of it was a flat-roofed house. More like a long shed. There were no lights on inside and only one rusted pickup outside. They massed at the front and back doors, split into groups of six.
“On my mark,” LT said. “Breach.”
Wood splintered as they kicked in the flimsy door, moving through the rooms in a precision hunt, calling out all clear as each room was searched. Pitbull branched off in the last room, something metallic catching his eye. He walked over to a low table and reached down. Even in this dank place he could smell a woman’s perfume, dainty and floral. He picked up a necklace…a locket. Pulling off his glove, he slipped his thumbnail in between the two sides, popping it open. A picture of Kid and Chloe was nestled inside. Beside the locket was a brown wallet. When he opened it, he found Chris’s driver’s license.
“LT,” Pitbull called, knowing that they had only missed them by minutes. Where had they gone?
At least they had evidence the two agents were here, and from the number of plates with uneaten food and the smell of Paige’s perfume, they seemed to both be alive.
But it looked like they were starting from square one.
12
Mak stood at the window in the command center. It was silent after they got the news about Paige and Chris.
So close.
She closed her eyes, reliving the awful moment when Fast Lane had wearily told her they had only missed them by moments.
So heartbreakingly close.
She’d sent everyone to bed. There was nothing more to do tonight. The room felt so empty.
The door to the center opened and the SEALs filed in looking hot, sweaty, and pissed. The moment he stepped through the door, her mood brightened. She stared at him, her mind numb, then her throat cramped up again and her vision blurred.
Errol Ballentine…Pitbull. He was here, and, God, she wasn’t sure whe
n it happened, but she didn’t feel so all alone anymore.
Afraid she would break down, she gritted her teeth. The wealth of emotion in his face and eyes hit her hard. He crossed the room and, without any warning, wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Decimated by his generosity, his tenderness, Mak clutched him, raw emotion reducing her almost to tears.
Smoothing down her hair, he turned his face against hers. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly. Shifting his hand in her hair, he expelled a shaky sigh and slid his other arm around her lower back, his strength welding them together. He said nothing as he simply held her.
Fast Lane cleared his throat and she twisted to look at him, feeling all torn apart inside. He set down a bag of intel on the table.
“Stuff we recovered. Hopefully, you can get something out of it.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am. Tomorrow is another day.”
She lifted her chin and nodded again. “It is.”
The SEALs filtered out, several of them giving her sympathetic looks. When the door closed, she looked up at Pitbull. “Let me see what you found.”
He turned to look at the bag of intel, and she shook her head. “The personal stuff,” she murmured.
He nodded and pulled out two objects and set them in her upturned hands. She looked down at the locket, one she’d seen around Paige’s neck, remembered how touched she’d been when Kid had given it to her the day their daughter was born. And the old, brown wallet she’d teased Chris enough about. She had been planning on getting him a new one on his birthday.
Without any warning, her eyes filled. A feeling of desolation washed through her, and she dropped her hand, clutching the wallet and the locket tightly in her fist.
Pitbull shifted, then cupped her jaw, lifting her face. “Aw, Mak,” he whispered gruffly. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
She looked up at him, her eyes blurred with tears, and Pitbull brushed his knuckles along her jaw. He smoothed the side of her head with his palm, his eyes dark and tormented.
